


A Little Courage

by scruffandyarn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Apocalypse, Canon Death, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Happy Ending, Light Smut, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 18:51:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2592485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scruffandyarn/pseuds/scruffandyarn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Apocalypse is coming.  Prophecies must be fulfilled.</p><p>But maybe they don't have to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Courage

You’d booked a flight home immediately after receiving the call.  Nothing like finding out your mother and brother were dead to make everything else, school, friends, future—all of it, seem really insignificant.

So you went home.  Only, without your mom and Adam there, it wasn’t home anymore.  Sure, it was the place where you’d grown up, the place where you’d learned you wanted to be a doctor, the place where your dad always came for you and Adam every so often.

But Dad wasn’t coming back either.  Your surprise half-brothers, Dean and Sam had told you he’d died a few years prior to your mom and brother being killed.  And fuck if that hadn’t taken the wind completely out of your sails.  You had no one to call and cry to about losing your brother and best friend.  No one to ask why you’d had to lose your mom when she hadn’t even hit retirement age.  No one to scream at for not better preparing your mother and brother against being killed by ghouls.  You were alone.

Except, you weren’t.  

Dean wasn’t entirely thrilled with the idea of taking you with them (that’s putting it nicely).  Even Sam was skeptical at first, since they’d just spent several days walking around with a ghoul in the form of Adam.  Maybe it was the fact that you were premed and might be some use in patching them up after a hunt or maybe it was you telling them that either they take you and teach you how to hunt or you’d find someone who would and then you’d hunt your half-brothers down.  Something convinced them it would be a good idea to let you tag along.

There were a few times, during the first months on the road with them, you’d been tempted to kill them both in their sleep and just disappear into the night.  Close quarters and clashing egos, for an extended period of time, not to mention—the whole setting Lucifer free from his cage in hell to start the apocalypse bit, could drive any person to consider homicide.  Somehow, though, you made it through.  And your half brothers actually started to grow on you.

Actually, you weren’t too proud to admit they’d become almost as close to you as Adam had.  Of course, they’d never take Adam’s place in your heart.  The two of you had grown up together, and being only a year younger than him, Adam had taken the role of your father until you were eleven and you met your actual father.

Still, you could definitely see some of that older-brother-turned-father-figure in Dean and it made your heartache over losing Adam a little more bearable.  And Sam—so much guilt for just trying to do what he thought was best.  A lot worse than your survivor’s guilt (if you had just stayed home and gone to community college to start off with, you wouldn’t have to miss your mother and brother so damn much), but it felt so good to have someone you could talk to about anything, now that Adam was gone.

****.  
** **

“Wait—Michael—as in, Michael, the archangel who wants to wear your meat-suit?  That Michael?”

Cas had just brought your brothers back from 1978, following after Anna to keep her from killing your father and their mother.  He’d pretty much collapsed upon arrival back in the present, while Dean and Sam—mostly Sam, were giving you a brief overview of what had happened.  They both seemed extremely shaken by what they’d experienced.

“Apparently,” Sam answered when it looked like Dean wasn’t going to say any more on the subject.

“Why?!”

Angels were supposed to be good, damn it!  You were supposed to be able to pray to them and have them watch over you.  They weren’t supposed to try and rip the last bit of family you had on this planet from your hands.

“Why do they do anything that they do, ______?  Because they can,” Dean spat out, not bothering to hide his anger.

You opened your mouth to respond, but Sam just shook his head.  There was no point in you trying to figure this out.  The angels were way more powerful than any of you were, and wrapping your mind around all of the whys behind their actions wasn’t going to happen any time soon.

“Do you guys need anything?” You asked instead.  You were met with stony silence from Dean and a gentle shake of Sam’s head.  “Then I’m going to try and get some sleep.” You tried to smile, but it fell flat.  “Now that I know the two of you are safe, maybe I’ll actually be able to sleep more than five minutes at a time.”

Sam bid you goodnight and Dean just sighed angrily.  You grabbed a blanket and made your way to the roll-away cot you’d procured from the motel’s front desk.  Despite the growing unease you felt after the brief conversation you’d had with your half-brothers, you were soon asleep, thanks to how little rest you’d actually gotten since Cas had taken off with them to 1978.

****.  
** **

Your dream started off peaceful enough.  You were walking alongside a stream, stopping every so often to pick up a stone—those cool Tiger’s Eye stones littered the bottom of the stream and the ground beside it—and chuck it into the water.  The sun was shining and a light breeze blew through the trees scattered around the landscape.  Everything around you was simple, and yet, absolutely beautiful.  What you wouldn’t give to be able to spend forever just walking along this stream.

“______.”

You whipped around, trying to find the source of the voice that had called your name.  No one was visible anywhere around you.

“______.”

“What the fuck is going on?” You shouted, turning around again, still looking for whoever was calling you.

“Such arrogance,” the voice chided, “to think I owe you a form for your eyes to gaze upon.”

“This is MY dream, asshat.  Show yourself!”

“Your dream?  So full of yourself.  This is MY paradise.  You should consider yourself lucky that I even allow you to glimpse at it, much less, allow you to alter the rock placement.”

What the hell was this voice going on about?  Rock placement?

“Who the hell are you?”

“Do not speak to me in such a manner, you insignificant human.  Your life is worth no more to me than the effort it would take to will you gone.”

Suddenly, things started making a little more sense.  Paradise.  Insignificant human. Will.  Form.

“Lucifer or Michael?”

“Do not try to compare me with my brother, ______.  Lucifer may be an archangel, but he is also fallen.  His grace is tarnished.  Mine is pure.”

“Really?  Pure?  Because fucking with people’s lives is so damn pure?”

“I saved your father and Dean’s mother.”

“First off, she’s Sam’s mother, too.” You didn’t like how he left Sam out of the equation.  “Second of all—you’re trying to take away one of the two family members I have left.  How is that not fucking with someone’s life?”

“You seem to think that I should care about the feelings of one insignificant human.” The voice seemed almost amused.

An overwhelming emotion washed over you.  It was sad and angry and anxious all at once.

“Michael, please—Dean told me you used Dad as a vessel, that it’s in our family makeup.” You sucked in a breath to bolster your courage.  “What if I say yes?  You and I go take on Lucifer in his current vessel, and Dean and Sam can stay out of it.”

You were met with what felt like hours of silence.  You closed your eyes and prayed, hoping he’d agree and you could spare your brothers from having to do anything else in regards to the apocalypse.

“Dean Winchester is my destined vessel.  He will be my vessel when I destroy Lucifer.”

“That’s not fair!” You screamed at the sky, the trees, the stupid stream.  “I can be the sword or whatever!”  You received no answer.  “Please!  I can’t—I can’t lose them, too.”

A light breeze swept across your now tear-streaked face.  The prospect of losing the only family you had left made you wish even more that you’d been home when those ghouls had taken Adam and your mom.  At least when you’d lost them, Dean and Sam had, in their own weird ways, helped you through it.  There wasn’t going to be anyone to help you survive losing them.

“Tell Dean I’ll be waiting for his yes.”

“You son of a bitch!  You sick, twisted, mother—”

****.  
** **

“Hey, ______!”

Your eyes snapped open and you were greeted by the sight of Sam kneeling down next to your cot.

“Sam!  Where’s Dean?  Is Dean OK?” You asked, frantic.  You sat up and looked over Sam’s shoulder.  Once you spotted Dean, you sighed in relief.  “Michael—he’s expecting you.  He—he’s waiting for your yes.”

“He’s in your dreams?”  

You nodded, rubbing your eyes.  You were surprised to find tears—but the dream had felt so damn real—no wonder.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean turned and stalked out of the hotel room, slamming the door on his way.

You jolted.  “No—he’s not going to—”

“Relax, ______.” Sam smiled, but it was forced.  “He just needs some air.  He’s not stupid enough to say yes.”  

That was a lie and both of you knew it.

“Did Michael say anything else?”

You shook your head and were thankful he didn’t press.  You weren’t going to tell him about offering to be Michael’s sword.  But the idea of you trying to take Dean’s spot now had a permanent place in your thoughts.

****.  
** **

“Michael, I know you’re here.”

You were on the side of a snow-covered mountain, flakes of white falling all around you, but you didn’t feel a chill.  You could see a mother deer and her fawn nibbling at a stretch of green grass at the base of the mountain, a few meters below your perch, paying no mind to you or the snow that was beginning to dust the landscape around them.  It looked like something off of a Christmas postcard.  

The same stream filled with Tiger’s Eye stones from your previous encounter with Michael ran near your feet—that was what clued you in on the archangel controlling your dream again.

“Why am I here?”

“You are very perceptive, for a human.”

“Why am I here?” You asked again.  There was no reason for him to be invading your dreams.  

Unless, he was trying to find Dean by locating you.  Shit.

“Wake me up, asshole!  Wake me up, now!” You pushed yourself to your feet.  Not waiting for a response, you leaped towards the bottom of the mountain.

****.  
** **

“Fucking hell!” You gasped and sat up in the back of the Impala.

“You okay back there?” Dean looked over at you before turning his attention back to the road.

“Fine.  Just—we need to have Cas put the angel-blocking sigils on me.”

Neither of your brothers said anything, but you could see Dean tightening his grip on the steering wheel.

“Who is it?” Sam turned around in his seat to stare at you.

“Michael.”

“Fuck.”

****.  
** **

You’d never actually admit it, but Cas’s branding sucked.  It knocked the wind out of you and you could have used a few minutes to catch your breath.  But you weren’t about to show any sort of weakness that might have made your brothers bench you from hunting.

****.  
** **

A new hunt came up a few days later.  It had you trying to figure out why two people, obviously infatuated with each other, would actually eat each other to death.  Nothing in any of your medical text books had prepared you for the sight of human stomachs being so full of other human.

“She—and then—”

It was like everything was crashing down on you.  Forget the human organs.  You weren’t sure why, but your mind had to be playing tricks on you.  It was clearly Sam’s voice, but his face—fuck, he looked so much like Adam all of a sudden.  And Dean—he looked like Adam, too.  And so did Cas.

Why?  Why all of a sudden?  

“Excuse me.”  You yanked off the gloves and hurried out of the room.  You could hear Sam and Dean call after you, but you had to get away.  

Yeah, you’d gotten emotional back when you first learned of his death, but you’d been doing pretty good since then, keeping a handle on your feelings.  Why were you suddenly seeing your brother everywhere?

You tried to block it from your mind.  There was work to be done and no one wanted to deal with your little break-down.  

But Adam would have.  He would have wanted you to open up about it.  Like he’d pestered you whenever school got too much just to get you to smile and talk to him.  He would have hugged you and kissed the top of your head and let you cry on his shoulder.

The more you thought about your brother, the harder it got to breathe.  You slid down the wall you’d been leaning against, until you were sitting on the floor.  Then you brought your knees up to your chest.

“______!” Dean, thankfully no longer looking like Adam, stormed out of the lab and stalked over to you.  When he realized you were crying, he softened.  “Hey—hey, what’s wrong?”

“Adam,” you whispered, unable to make eye-contact.  “His face—Dean, I miss him.” Finally, you looked up, your eyes glassy with tears.  “I miss Mom and him so much.”

“I was wondering when this was going to hit.”

You closed your eyes, trying to pull yourself back together.  “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.  I knew you’d fall apart over him sooner or later.  But I need you to get it together right now, okay?  You can do this after we toss Lucifer back in the cage.”

You nodded.

****.  
** **

Dean and Cas had left you to keep an eye on Sam while they went after Famine.  Definitely not ideal, since your mom and brother kept creeping back into your thoughts.  Sam was hardly a distraction, as he was locked and chained to keep him from going after more demon blood.

You were ten minutes into your babysitting duty—nine of those minutes were spent thinking about and missing Adam and your mom, half the time wanting to have died with them and the other half wishing you’d been the one to kill those fucking ghouls—when you heard someone fiddling with the door of the motel room.

“Dean?”

You hadn’t had time to prepare yourself when two people burst into the room.  Fuck, where was your weapon?  One of them lunged for you just as the dresser in front of the bathroom door was moved by the door swinging open.  Shit—Sam was loose!  What a time to not have your wits about you.

You were on your feet, though.  Granted, the female had her fingers digging into your throat, but you landed your fist on her jaw and it knocked her off.

“Sam!” You glanced over to see Sam with his face pressed to the neck of the man who had rushed into the room.  He looked up, blood dripping from his chin.  Demons.  Damn it.

“Get out of here, ______!” Sam yelled just before ducking as the female demon took a swing at him.

“No!  I’m not going to let you do this to yourself!” Without thinking it through, you jumped on the back of the demon, effectively pulling her away from him.  “Get out!  I’ll handle her.”

Sam had been doing so well.  He’d been clean for so long and—it was all over now.  Again.  All of his hard work—everything.  It wasn’t fair!  

He looked at you and gave you a silent nod before running out of the room.  He’d probably be on his way to find Dean, which would probably only lead him to more demons—fuck.  You weren’t helping him at all.

Your distraction cost you.  The demon had taken advantage and slammed you back against the wall.  Then she headbutted backwards, and you could practically feel the bone in your chin, as well as your skull, crack.

“You pathetic human.”

You slumped to the floor from the dizziness.  She towered over you as she dug her fingers back into your neck.  She lifted you, sliding you against the wall, as if you weighed nothing.  She tightened her fingers and the lightheadedness grew from your lack of airflow.

Before you could blink, a glow shot from her eyes and her mouth—kind of like how it did when Cas would smite someone.  Once the grip on your throat was gone, you were able to suck in oxygen.  She dropped to the floor, but Cas wasn’t behind her.  Actually, no one was behind her.

“What the hell?”

The things around you began to blink in and out.  The walls, the motel beds, the demons on the floor.  Everything.  Until you found yourself standing in a field of wild roses.  You spun around in disbelief, but you didn’t see anyone.  

You did notice you were in a completely different outfit.  Gone was all of your hunting gear, and in its’ place was a simple cotton dress.  You couldn’t remember the last time you’d worn a dress.  Every outfit you owned now was some combo of denim and flannel.  You felt naked without your weapons and boots—for fuck’s sake, you were barefoot.  What the—

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a flash of blue.  Keeping your guard up, you moved closer to it, when the sound of running water hit your ears.  Sure enough, you found the stream with the Tiger’s Eye stones.

“Michael!  What the fuck!” Your thoughts were a blur.  What kind of game was this angel playing at?  How were you supposed to get back to your brothers—you hadn’t fallen asleep this time…had you?

“Patience, little one.”

“Fuck you!  Let me go!”

“Language, ______.” He was chastising you!  “Would you be so rude to the one who just saved you from that demon?”

“That was you?” You scoffed—the only thing this SOB had done was threaten to tear your family apart.  Like he’d actually save you.

“You saw the glow.”

“Why?”

“Your brothers are attempting to retrieve Famine’s ring.  I thought it best you not interfere and subject yourself even more to Famine’s…gift.”

“I wasn’t hungry,” you protested.

“The visions, ______.  Famine’s effect on you was not one of hunger.  It was one of longing.  You long to be with your mother and brother again.  You have hidden it well for some time now, but I know you still think about wanting to join them.”

“So?  What business is it of yours?” You felt a little silly yelling at the sky, but no one else was in…Michael’s paradise?…so you shoved that feeling aside.

“Your safety is important.”

“Wait—why?” Your thoughts ran wild.  “Are you—will you let me be the sword?  Will you let me end this with the guy Lucifer is inhabiting now?”

“No.”

“Why not?” You really wished Michael was in some physical form, if for nothing else but a target for your fist.  “Damn it, Michael—why not?”

“The prophecy must be upheld.”

“Fuck your precious prophecy!” Instantly, the sky darkened.  Part of you was screaming for you to shut up, but part of you just didn’t care.  “Why the fuck does the prophecy matter?  Because your Dad told you so?  And just how long has He been around lately?  He’s just another dead-beat who can’t be bothered to help His own shitty family.”

An invisible force shoved you to the ground.  You couldn’t move and you could barely breathe, thanks to the increasing pressure against your ribs.

“Do not speak of things you know nothing about.”

“I know all about dead-beat dads.  Never even knew mine until I was eleven,” you wheezed out.  “You may not want to save your family, but I want to save mine.  So take your prophecy and shove it up your ass.”

The force holding you down was gone.  You gasped in as much air as you could, blinking furiously at finding yourself back in the motel room, clothing and hunting gear back where it belonged.  You sprang up from the bed and stepped over the dead demon at your feet just before Sam and Dean and Cas came into the room.

“You get the ring?”

Dean nodded grimly and moved to gather all his belongings.  Looked like you were heading out again.  You turned to Sam, but he and Cas were no longer in the room with you.

“Sam?”

“Get your shit together, ______.  We’re heading to Bobby’s.”

“Dean, where the hell is Sam—he was just—”

“______!” He barked. “Get your shit together now!”

You nodded.

****.  
** **

Sam’s detoxing was a fucking nightmare.  Hearing him scream from the other side of panic room made every inch of your skin crawl.  You wanted to go in there and comfort him, but you knew you couldn’t.  Dean stayed near the door, though.  He probably was using it as some sort of self-punishment.

“Cas, I need to talk with you.” You didn’t bother looking at Dean before you pulled the angel up the stairs, past Bobby, and out into the yard.

“What’s the matter?”

“The sigil thingy you put on my ribs.  It’s not working.”  He cocked his head to the side and you growled in frustration.  “Michael found me again.  And this time, it wasn’t a dream.  He smote a demon that was trying to kill me and then took me to some field with flowers or something.”

“How do you know it was Michael?”

“I’m telling you, Cas, it was Michael.  It’s the same fucking stream with the Tiger’s Eye stones in it in every dream he’s entered, and it was the same stream that was running through the field he brought me to.”

“I do not understand why Michael is targeting you.”

“I don’t know why he’s targeting me.  What I’d like to understand is why your stupid sigils aren’t working!”

Cas held his hand out towards your chest. “The sigils are gone.”

“What do you mean, they’re gone?  You carved them into my ribs!  That shit just doesn’t heal up!”

“We need to tell Dean.”

“Cas, he’s down there, about ready to blow his brains out listening to Sam dry out.  The last thing we need to do is to add one more thing to his plate.”

“What would you have me do?”

“I—shit, I don’t know.” You ran a hand through your hair.  “A year ago, my biggest worry was trying to get through midterms.” You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to collect your thoughts.  “I offered to be Michael’s sword.” You looked up at him.

“What?”

You could feel Cas’s anger radiating off of him.  “Me as Michael, whoever it is Lucifer has, fulfill the prophecy, avoid having Dean and Sam make more sacrifices than they already have.”

“All while bringing on the End of Times,” he growled.

“It’s certainly better than Dean and Sam being the ones to do it!” You threw your hands up in frustration.  “This whole fucking place is going to hell in a handbasket, and I am sick and tired of having family ripped from me.  I can’t lose them, Cas.  I can’t stand by and watch two more of my brothers being taken.”

“They won’t be taken,” he insisted.

“No, they’ll throw themselves willingly onto the fire.  That’s supposed to make it better?”

He frowned.

“You don’t breathe a word of this to Dean or Sam,” you hissed, poking his chest.  “All I want from you is a way to make sure that Michael can’t get to Dean through me.  Obviously your little branding didn’t work.  Figure out a way to make it work.”

He worked his jaw for a moment, and you prepared to have him yell at you.  But he simply nodded and disappeared.

****.  
** **

It was nearing three in the morning, and Cas still wasn’t back.  You’d spent the afternoon going through all of Bobby’s books on angel-lore you could find, copying down every sigil that would protect someone from angels.  Then you’d hid yourself in the bathroom and used your knife to etch all of the sigils into your skin—not deep, just enough to leave a mark on your skin that would last for several days.

You knew trying to stay up any longer wasn’t going to work.  Reluctantly, you laid down on the couch, careful of the still-stinging marks.  Not five minutes after your head hit the armrest, you were out.

****.  
** **

“What have you done to yourself?”

This was a first.  Usually, you were the one having to call Michael out before you got any acknowledgement from him.

You took a moment to look around.  A dense forest surrounded you.  It was dark—darker than it had ever been in any of your time with Michael.  There was hardly enough light for you to spot the ever present stream just a few paces in front of you.  A cold wind blew at you, knocking you around and biting at your arms and face.  Michael was angry.

“Answer me!”

“S-sigils to keep you from finding me.” You tried to keep your voice from cracking in fear—he’d never yelled at you before, even when you’d said all that shit about God, and it was definitely making you nervous.  

“Why?”

“I’m trying to protect my brother.” You focused on your breathing, but you could still feel yourself shaking—he was a fucking archangel!  “I don’t want you finding him through me.” And yet, he’d still managed to find you.  Fuck, you were going to get Dean killed.

“If I was using you to find Dean, I could have done that long before now.”

“Michael, please—if you’re not going to let me be your sword,” you were trying hard not to cry, but failing miserably with each tear that dripped down your cheeks, “Then just—stop.  I can’t—I can’t keep doing this.  I can’t keep losing my focus.  I’m going to end up getting one of them killed and—” your lips trembled “Please just stop.”

“Stop what?” His voice was gentle this time.

“Stop taking me wherever it is you’re taking me.  Stop trying to fulfill this prophecy.  Stop the apocalypse.”

“It is a prophecy.  There is no stopping it.” He sounded almost regretful.

“Why not?” You didn’t wait for a response.  “Why can’t you stop it?”

“Free will is—”

“No, it’s not.  It’s not an illusion.” You remembered what Dean had told you about his interaction with Michael back in 1978.  “But even if it is, who’s to say you can’t make it for yourself?  God’s not here and He left you in charge.  Why can’t you just…take charge?”

“What would you have me do?”

You sighed and rubbed away the tears from your face.  Cas had said the same thing to you not twenty-four hours before.  What was with these angels and thinking you were making unreasonable demands?

“Be the leader your Dad obviously wanted you to be.  You can’t tell me you want to kill your brother.”  You paused, but received no rebuttal, so you pushed on.  “So then don’t!  You’re supposed to be the archangel of courage.  Why can’t you have the courage to say no?  Have the courage to not fight this battle?  Have the courage to tell your brother you love him and that you just want him to come home?”

What you wouldn’t give to be able to do the same thing.  To tell Adam that you loved him and that you missed him and that you just wanted to be a family again.

Michael still had the chance to do that with his brother.  Betrayal didn’t have to mean the end of the world.  All it would take would be one of them just having a little courage.

“Hey, ______.”

You turned in disbelief to face a new voice coming from an actual form—Adam’s form—smirking at you as he leaned against one of the trees.  The trees around you seemed to give way to some sort of light that let you see your brother again.

“Adam?” There was no way…

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

“Holy shit, Adam!” You ran the few steps towards your brother who had opened his arms to envelope you in a hug.

Of course it was your brother—who else would use that stupid catch-phrase from his childhood PeeWee Herman obsession?  Damn near drove you crazy with the rerun marathons he’d subject you to every weekend for almost half a year.

“Shit, Adam, I’ve missed you so much.”

“Missed you too, brat.” He held you out at arm’s length before ruffling your hair, grinning.  “Sam and Dean taking good care of you?”

“You know about them?”

“Kinda hard to miss the three of you running around like lunatics.” He laughed and you couldn’t help but smile.  “Dad found me—explained a lot to me.  Can’t believe how much we missed out on!”

“It’s like a completely different world.”

“But you’re navigating it just fine.” He smiled when you shook your head.  “No, I’ve watched you three.  Dad took me to this place called the Roadhouse and introduced me to this guy named Ash.  He’s got some surveillance hook up that lets him track whoever he wants to down on Earth.”

“So you’re in heaven then?”

“You wound me, ______.  You thought I was in hell this whole time?” He made a face and you laughed.  “Nope—express ride upstairs.  Even after all the torture I subjected you to.”

“Good.” You pressed your lips together.  “And Mom?”

“She’s up there too.” You sighed in relief.  “Haven’t found her yet, but Michael assures me she’s up there.  I just have to keep looking.”

“Michael—you’ve been talking to Michael?” You pulled out of his arms and took a step back.  “The archangel who wants to end the fucking world?”

“The very same douchebag.” The wind picked back up suddenly, throwing you off balance.  Adam grabbed your shoulders and kept you upright.  “Hey! I said I’d talk to her about you but I never said it would be one-hundred percent civil!”

“Michael brought you here?”

“Yeah.” Adam returned his attention to you.  “Seems the big lug doesn’t know how to talk to girls.” He rolled his eyes.  “He thought I could throw in a good word for him.”

“Wait—all this time, all these dreams, every time he’s brought me here—he’s liked me?” Your brain was definitely short-circuiting.  

“No—the first time was to have you pass on a message to his meat-suit—I mean, Dean,” he corrected himself when you glared at him.  “I guess he likes a woman with…” he gestured at wildly at you, “Whatever you have.  I don’t know.”

“Fuck, you are an asshole sometimes!”  You slapped your hand over your mouth.  You hadn’t seen Adam in so long and here you were, swearing at him.

“The two of you would be perfect for each other.  You’re here, cursing at me, Michael’s always cursing at his brother.  Match made in literal heaven.”

“None of this makes sense, Adam.  Why in the world would Michael—a fucking archangel—like me?”

“Beats me.  I certainly don’t see the appeal.” Without thinking, you shoved against him and he laughed.  “Shit, I’ve missed you.  Nearly forgot how much fun you are to tease.”

“Well, I haven’t forgotten you.  Fuck, I miss you every day.” You were no longer smiling.  Instead, tears had started forming in your eyes.  Joking around with him again—it was going to hurt so much worse when you woke up this time.

“______, you still have two big brothers who have my full permission to harass you at every waking moment.”  You tried to laugh, but it came out as a sob.  “Damn it, ______, that was supposed to make you smile.” He pulled you into a hug.  “It will get easier.  I promise.  You just can’t keep holding it all inside.”

“I can’t let it go.” You cried into his shirt. “I can’t let you or Mom go.  You’re all I have left.”

“I love you, but that’s bullshit.” He kissed the top of your head.  “You have Sam, Dean, Bobby, that weird little angel who keeps following you all around.” Finally, you were able to laugh, even as your tears kept falling.  “You’re doing alright for yourself.  Maybe not as good as you would if you’d finished medical school.” He shrugged and you leaned back to look up at him.  “I’m proud of you.”

“Really?”

In your mind, you were five years old again.  Adam and his friend Chris had climbed to the top of the jungle gym at the local park.  You were still on the ground, looking up at them, trying to get them to come play with you.  Chris told you that they would if you managed to climb up to where they were, knowing you never would as you’d always been afraid of heights.

But you’d proven him wrong.  Hands and feet stretching out nervously, you pulled yourself up higher than you’d ever been, and then higher still, until you were almost to where they were.

Adam had looked impressed.  Chris was anything but.  He’d leaned closer to you and asked you whether you’d ever watched the Lion King and if you wanted to play the best part of the movie.  Just before he grabbed your hands, he went tumbling off the bars, to fall flat on the ground below.  Adam had pushed him off.  He looked down at Chris and said “Long live the king” before grabbing your hands and pulling you up to the top with him.  That moment was the first time anyone had ever told you they were proud of you—even if you didn’t yet know what it meant—you still remembered that feeling of bravery and accomplishment and how excited you were that Adam played with you, and only you, for the rest of the afternoon.

“Yeah—you’re pretty awesome—you know, for a girl.”

You grinned just as more tears started trailing down.

“And I think—I think you’re on the right track.  You know—with Michael.  He’s starting to doubt the whole prophecy thing—ever since you told him to shove it up his ass.  By the way, brilliant thing to tell an archangel who could turn you to dust with a thought.” He tried to glare at you but wound up smiling. “Just do me a favor?”

“Anything,” you vowed.

“Stop carving things on yourself.” You shifted uncomfortably in his arms. “I know they’re all covered now—I watched you cut them into your skin.”

This time you had no reservation about smacking him hard on the shoulder.  “Dude—I was practically naked—not cool.”

“I stopped watching after you finished the ones on your arms,” he assured you.

“You better.” You scrunched your face up, thoroughly grossed out.

“Michael’s willing to let Cas re-sigil your ribs, but only if he’s going to be around to protect you all the time.  I thought he was going to blow up a few universes when he realized you were being attacked by that demon.”

“He’s been keeping tabs on me?”

“He’s trying to win your favor, or whatever it’s called.  I’d say he’s trying to get in your pants, but yeah—not going there with you.  Or him for that matter.” He shivered in disgust.

“That means you’ve been talking to him for a while.”

“Yeah.  And I’ve been doing my part to keep the world intact.  I tell him all the time that if he really loves you, he’s not going to start the apocalypse.”

“Wait—did you just say—he loves me?”

“That’s my cue to go.” He skirted around your question.  “Time for you to wake up, ______.”

****.  
** **

“______?”

“No, I just got you back!”

“______!”

You jerked out of sleep to find Cas standing over you.

“Cas, shit.”  You panted, trying to calm yourself.  “Did you find out anything?”

“Michael is not letting me mark you.  He’s marked you himself.” You nodded.  That made sense.  “And you’ve marked yourself.”

“I—yeah, I did.” You sighed and pushed yourself up so you could sit. You felt the stinging from your self-made marks fade as Cas healed your skin. “What took you so long?”

“I came back shortly after you fell asleep, ______.  But you’ve been unconscious for over twelve hours.  That is hardly my fault.”

“Twelve—twelve hours?!” You were on your feet a moment later.  “Sam!  How’s he do—”

“He finished detoxing early this morning.  He and Dean left for a hunt.”

“They left without me?!” Shit!

“I believe they wanted to let you sleep.  Dean was feeling particularly guilty, knowing your lack of sleep is because Michael keeps invading your dreams to find him.”

“Damn it!” **They fucking left you?!**  “He’s not, by the way.  Michael, I mean.  He’s not using me to get to Dean.” You pushed past him towards the kitchen.

“Do you know why he pursues you in your dreams?”

“Just that, Cas.” You sighed angrily, heading straight for the fridge.  You yanked the door open and grabbed the orange juice from the top shelf.  “He’s pursuing me.”

“I’m afraid I don’t—”

“Understand, right.” You drank straight from the carton before turning to face him.  “Apparently, your oldest brother has a thing for me.”

“A thing.” He cocked an eyebrow.  “I’m still not sure I—”

“He lo-likes me.  He might possibly be interested in me romantically.  Does that help?” He nodded slowly.  You sighed again before replacing the carton of juice and closing the fridge.

“So he’s not using you to further his apocalyptic cause.”

“No.”  You paused, an idea crossing your mind.  “As a matter of fact—do you think you could help me with something?”

“I believe that depends on what I’m helping you with.” You rolled your eyes.

“I need you to put me back to sleep.  I think it’s time for me to have a little chat with Michael—face to face.”

“You cannot look upon Michael’s true—”

“He’s not going to let my eyes burn out, Cas.” You thought back over the time you’d just spent with Adam.  “I trust him.”

****.  
** **

It took a little more persuasion before Cas agreed.  Of course, Bobby had come in and thrown his two-cents into the mix.  Both of them probably thought you were crazy, but you managed to convince them to at least let you try it your way.

****.  
** **

“Michael?” You didn’t waste any time, once you reached the bank of the stream.  His answer wasn’t immediate, so you decided to sit.  You wound up taking your boots and socks off and sticking your feet in the water.  “Jesus fucking hell, that is cold!”  You yanked your feet back out, teeth already starting to clack together.  You pulled your knees to your chest and wrapped your arms around your legs, hoping to warm yourself up.

“I suppose asking you to watch your language is useless.”

“S’cold.” A moment later, you were wrapped in a very pleasant warmth that melted all the way down to your bones.  “Thank you.”

“Why are you back so soon?” He had to know why, since he’d been keeping track of what you were doing.  But it was nice that he asked.

“Can we talk?”

“Is that not what we’re doing?” He sounded amused.

“Maybe it’s a human thing—I don’t know—I’d just kinda like to talk face to face for once.”  His silence made you think he was going to deny your request.  So when, bit by bit, a figure took shape across the stream from where you sat, you were surprised.

Damn if he wasn’t absolutely gorgeous.

Dark hair, a bit longer than Dean’s.  A healthy dose of stubble. Dark blue eyes that totally put Cas’s eyes to shame to you.  Maybe a little shorter than your brothers, but still tall.  And a bashful smile that completely stole your heart.

“Who’s meat-suit are you using?”

“This one is mine.” He was full of surprises today.  “Gabriel is not the only one who has the power to create his own vessel.  Of course, this one is not the sword, but—”

“You know about Gabriel?” You cut him off.

“There are many things I know that you seem to think I overlook.” He smiled and you found yourself returning it.  “What kind of leader would I be if I didn’t know the whereabouts of my followers?” You cocked an eyebrow. “Plus, that’s kind of my job—as his big brother, and all—to keep an eye on him.” You fought a grin and lost.  He’d been talking to Adam again.

“Any particular reason you’re all the way over there?” You nodded your head in his direction.  “Kinda hard to talk if you’re not going to sit with me.”

“Alright.” He was hesitant, but he disappeared only to reappear sitting on the ground next to you, his position identical to yours.  “I find these things confining.” He tugged at the high collar of his shirt.

Fuck—he really had been talking to Adam.  The last time you’d seen this kind of get-up—pointed boots, heavy-duty pants, a puffy-sleeved jacket with ruffles and a high collar, buttoned all the way from his waist to his throat—and shit if he didn’t look like some sort of pirate or something—Adam had convinced your junior-high boyfriend that this look was what you wanted him to wear to pick you up on your first movie date.

“Do us both a favor, then?” He looked at you.  “Don’t take dating advice from my brother.” You sighed.  “I love him, and I know he loves me, but he’s definitely an older brother when it comes to my dates.”

“So he lied when he said that you prefer this type of clothing on your male conquests?” You slapped a hand to your forehead.

“Yeah—just don’t take any advice from him, ever.” He frowned.  “Oh—no, Michael—it was just a joke.  Please don’t worry about it.  You look fine.  Don’t send him to hell or anything!” You were panicked.  Until you saw him start to smirk.  “Adam told you to do all that, didn’t he?” You growled.  “He told you I would freak out?”

“Yes.”

“Have I told you how much I hate my brother?” His smirk gentled into a soft smile.

“You don’t hate your brother any more than I hate mine.”

“Michael,” you sighed. “That’s actually why I wanted to talk to you.” He nodded for you to continue, but you weren’t really sure where to begin.  “I just—Adam told me that you have some sort of attachment to me.  I’m flattered, and under different circumstances, I’d be able to reciprocate.  But—this—this is my family.  These are people I love, people I’d die for, people who’d die for me, people who have been there for me when I had no one.  I can’t just sit back.  I have to do everything I can to keep you and your brother from destroying them.”

“I know.” He sighed and turned his head to look out, over the stream, and across the endless savannah he’d put you in.  “But I know my brother, ______.  If he senses any weakness from me, he will use that to destroy me and everything else, including you and your family.”

Your heart ached for him.  He was hurting, and it was all your fault.  You’d made him question the prophecy.  Made him doubt whether he was doing what he should.  Made him realize that killing Lucifer would never be cut-and-dry as he’d once thought it would be.

You weren’t sorry for opening his eyes, but you were sorry for causing him pain.

“You’re not a machine, Michael.” You reached out and brushed your fingers against his hand.  He turned to look at his hand, unsure of what to do with it or yours.  You smiled and took his hand in yours and laced your fingers together.  “You were made with the ability to think and reason.  Maybe—maybe that’s why your Dad left you in charge.  He wanted you to figure that out.  Maybe He wanted you to teach your brothers and sisters.”

“You think He wanted me to teach my siblings how to be more human?” It wasn’t an accusation, but an honest question.

“I think maybe He realized how unfair it was to you, to create you all to be unfeeling and uncaring.  Maybe He realized, once He created humans, that His angels deserved to know how it feels to truly love and be loved—because that whole blind devotion—that’s not love.  Love is a choice, something that is given, something that you feel because you choose to, not because you have to.  Maybe, when your brother fell, God realized how unfair He’d been to Lucifer.  Maybe He realized Lucifer was just wanting to love and be loved like that.  And maybe that’s why He left.  Maybe He wants you to find the courage to do what He couldn’t.” You half expected him to yank his hand from yours and yell at you or even smite you for suggesting that God might have made a mistake.

“I have been, since before the Earth was created.  I watched my Father form each and every single thing that inhabits this planet.  I watched as He gave life to all of my brothers and sisters.  I was never created to question.  Never created to do anything other than to devote my entire existence to Him.  I never wondered the way my brother did, as to why our Father needed to continue to create when He already had all of us.” You squeezed his hand gently and one corner of his mouth lifted.  Did he have any idea how beautiful he looked, even with just a half-smile on his lips?  “I was created to love my Father.  And then He left after my brother was cast out of heaven.” He sighed.  “After He left, I had no choice but to follow the prophecies He left, because I didn’t know how to do anything else.  God was gone, Lucifer was gone, Gabriel left not long after, and Raphael—Raphael has always wanted Paradise.” He rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb.  “I followed those prophecies to the letter.  Even after Castiel joined Dean, and Sam.” You smiled.  “I was determined to see them through.”  Your smile faded.  Still, you nodded.  You couldn’t really expect one conversation to change his entire way of thinking.  “And then I realized I could use you to get to Dean.  I thought maybe I could use you as a bargaining chip to convince him to say yes.”

You had to fight the urge to yank your hand from his.  Still, you really wanted your hand back right then.  With what he was saying—using you?  Definitely did not make you want to keep physical contact with him.  He surprised you by gently extracting his own hand, smiling knowingly at you.  

“Something happened that I wasn’t expecting.  I put you into what reminded you of a ‘Christmas postcard’ and you jumped.  You weren’t the least bit concerned that there might have been repercussions.  You just jumped, trying to wake yourself up.  So fiercely protective of your brothers.  I couldn’t understand it.  No harm was coming to them by you being there.”

“I wasn’t taking any chances.” He nodded.

“I began to feel something.  I went to find Adam shortly after that.  He was just as defensive of you.  I believe he attempted to threaten me—something about shoving a boot—”

“Yeah, that sounds like him.” You smiled.

“He eventually explained that I was feeling jealous.  I wanted to feel that protective of my brothers and sisters.  I wanted to protect them and defend them and yet, whenever I looked at them before, all I felt was duty.  Duty to God, to His prophecy, but not to them.  Not to the ones who needed it.”  You started to feel a little more at ease.  “Later on, when I realized you were being attacked by a demon, I started to feel that protectiveness.  I had this need to make sure that nothing would harm you.  So I brought you here.”

“What was with the dress?” Then it hit you.

“Adam.” You both said together.  

“Yes,” Michael sighed. “He was wrong about it, though.  Not every woman looks better in a dress.  Your beauty can’t be hidden, even when you are wearing many layers of clothing.  Your soul is stunning and your smile,” blush crept up your cheeks, “everything about you is nothing short of my Father’s finest work.”

“I’m really—I mean, that’s—I don’t even know what to say.”

He smiled at your fumbling.

“It wasn’t until you told me to take the prophecy and ‘shove it up my ass’ that I knew I was feeling more than just jealousy.  At first, I believed it to be just anger at your calling my Father a ‘dead-beat’ but I realized that if it had been nothing but anger, I would have simply smote you.  But I couldn’t.  I still wanted to protect you.  And then the last time you were here, I realized you were hurting—that I was the one hurting you.  I needed to see you smile again.  That was why I brought Adam to you.”

“Thank you for that, by the way.” You turned your hand over and slid it back under his.  You could see the faint surprise in his eyes before he intertwined your fingers with his once more.  “Especially after…well, after Famine…I can’t tell you how much that meant to me that you gave me the chance to see him again.”

“I don’t want to ever be the cause of your pain, ______.  But with my brother, I am not sure how to continue and have this end in such a way that does not cause you some sort of pain.”

“And you won’t let me be the sword?”

“Using you as such would bring a pain worse than death to you.  Please do not ask it of me again.” He squeezed your hand.

“But you healed my dad.”

“Even so, before I healed him, he suffered greatly.  In hindsight, I am not proud of how reckless I was, knowing that the knowledge is now causing you distress.”  You nodded, trying to block out the thought of what your father went through.  

“What if you tried talking to Lucifer?”

“And what would I say?”

“That your Father was wrong to turn His back on him?  That he deserves to love and be loved?  That you love him?  That you’re sorry?”

“Sorry?” He looked at you strangely.  “You want me to apologize to my brother when he is the one who disobeyed?”

“Michael—you played your part in him being cast out.  Don’t you feel even the slightest remorse for kicking him out of heaven?”

“I never wanted to cast him from our home.” He admitted quietly.  “I will talk to my brother.”

You brought his hand to your lips and brushed them gently against his knuckles.  His gaze ignited at the simple touch.  Suddenly, you were very aware of how close he was to you and how alone the two of you were.  Heat began to blossom in your chest and spread throughout your body.

“I want to go with you—moral support and all.” You needed something to distract you before you did something embarrassing—like throw yourself on him.  Damn it, he needed to stop being so beautiful and sweet and caring.

“No!”  He yanked his hand from your grasp.  “You will stay as far away from my brother as possible.” It wasn’t a suggestion—this was an order.

“Michael, I—”  Yeah, nothing like a dictator to completely ruin the mood.

“This is not up for debate, ______.  Until I am sure that my brother and I can repair the damage that has been caused, you will not go anywhere near Lucifer.”

“That’s not fair!  I want to help!”

“There is nothing you can do to help.  The only thing your presence will result in is Lucifer using you as my weakness—he will destroy you.  I will not allow that to happen.” You could tell he was fighting to control his anger.  “I cannot—I could not bear to lose you.” He was struggling with his emotions and it made you want to cry.  “I choose to love you, to give you my love.  Please, do not put yourself in a position where you might be lost to me.  I could not bear it,” he repeated, his eyes pleading with you.

You were drowning in that dark blue just before you bolted forward and pressed your lips to his.  You caught him off-guard, because he seemed to freeze.  Or maybe he was just really new to this.  You didn’t really care.  Instead, you focused your efforts on coaxing his lips apart, taking the bottom one in between your teeth.  You sank them gently into his flesh and that seemed to be the prompting he needed.

He was extremely responsive to every touch.  You ran your fingers through his hair and he made a noise that reverberated in his chest—almost like he was purring.  Tentatively, he placed his hands on your shoulders, sliding them slowly down before coming to rest on your hips.  You moaned against his lips when his fingers increased their pressure and pulled you closer to him.

Finally, your tongue slid forward and you proceeded to map out the contours of his mouth, tugging gently on his hair and savoring the taste of chocolate and peppermint he seemed to be made of.

“Chocolate, huh?” You smiled, trying to catch your breath.  “That something you pick up from Gabriel?”

“You know what my brother tastes like?” He cocked an eyebrow, a sly grin on his lips.

“Oh—no—NO!”  You grimaced and shook your head.  “Guy just eats enough candy to put Willy Wonka out of business.”  You paused.  “And speaking of brothers, you know that if you actually use Dean as a vessel, I’ll never be able to do this with you again.”  You leaned forward to kiss him again, but he stopped you with a finger to your lips.

“All the more reason for me to talk to Lucifer now before things progress too far to turn back.”  You nodded, a bit reluctant to let him go.  “Promise me that you will not go where I am going.”

“I think—I think I love you, too, Michael.”  Even if you weren’t completely there just yet, you were definitely falling fast.  “I will not go where you are going.  But I need you to promise that you will come back to me.  That no matter what happens, you will come back to me.  I couldn’t bear it if I lost you either.”

“I promise.” Then he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead.  “I will send you back.  Castiel is worried.” He smiled when you rolled your eyes.  “Do not forget that I love you.”

The way he was speaking made everything sound so final.  A lump formed in your throat at the thought of this being the last time you’d see him.  Instead of speaking, you wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to him.  He returned the hug and his warmth seeped into you.

****.  
** **

“______!” Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed you’d crashed in, slapping your cheeks to bring you back to consciousness.  “______, can you hear me?”

“Stop fucking hitting me,” you growled before pushing his hand away from your face.  “Cas,” you spotted the angel behind Sam. “What the hell, man?  You brought them here?”

“I brought them here, ______.” Bobby wheeled himself forward, before folding his arms across his chest.  “Cas couldn’t get you to come around.  Neither could I.  Didn’t know what Michael was doing to you.”

“What the hell were you thinking, ______?!” Dean was red in the face.  “What kind of fucking idiot thinks they can take on an archangel?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Dean—maybe someone who’s thinking about saying yes to one?” You sat up and glared at him.  “By the way, Dean, Michael isn’t even considering using you as a vessel anymore.”  Not exactly what he’d said, but whatever.

“What do you mean?” Cas looked concerned.

“I mean that after he told me he loved me, I let him know if he ever planned to get me into bed with him he damn well better never use my brother as a vessel.”  Four jaws dropped at your declaration.  You weren’t even really sure why you’d said it—but their reaction made you glad you had.  You kinda wished you’d had a camera.

“Michael is in love with a human?” Cas was the first one to pick his jaw up from the floor.

“Looks that way.  Guess you could wind up being my brother-in-law.”

“This—this is good, I think?” Sam looked back at the other men before his gaze settled on Dean.  “Michael won’t be using you as a vessel.”

“No, but he’ll have to find some other poor sap in our family to do the job.  Did you think about that, ______?”

“Michael’s not going to need another vessel—he has his own.  Said it’s a trick he picked up from Gabriel.”

“Michael knows where Gabriel’s at?” Sam looked at you in disbelief.

“He’s known this whole time.  Big brother’s gotta keep tabs on all the little ones.”  Sam barked a laugh.  “And he’s going to talk to Lucifer.  Big brother to little brother.  He’s even going to apologize for his part in kicking Lucy out of heaven.”

“Do you—do you realize what you’ve done?” Bobby was suddenly vocal again, eyes wide.  “You may have succeeded where God Himself didn’t.”

“Being the driving force behind Michael and Lucifer reconciling would definitely earn you sainthood.” Cas mused.

“That’s even if they reconcile.” Dean groused.

“You know what, Dean—” You stopped short when you saw the grateful look on his face.  “You can have the sainthood.  What will I care about that if I’ve got an archangel in my bed?”

“I think we’re done here.”  Sam was quick to jump up from the bed. ** ******  
.  


Eight days.

Over a week had passed since Michael had occupied your dreams.  You tried not to think about it, but every night you went to bed, hoping, and every morning you’d wake up even more worried and anxious.

Everyone was pretty good about not mentioning it.  For the most part.  On the third morning, Cas—who was still hiding out, just in case he was still wanted for heaven’s rehab—asked you if you’d heard anything from Michael.  Your only response was tears.  And the poor guy was so awkward about trying to comfort you, he must have damn near burst into song when Sam offered to take over.

Dean was doing his part too.  He even let you have the last slice of pie.  Of course, that only made you cry, since you knew why he was being so nice to you.  You wound up skipping the pie and crying on his shirt for a half-hour.

With every passing day, you grew more and more convinced you’d sent Michael to his death.  That Lucifer had refused his apology and killed him.  Your attempts at world peace had killed the angel you were coming to love more and more every moment.

You weren’t sure what you would do once it was confirmed that Michael was dead.  Lucifer would surely end all human life at that point.  But even if he didn’t, how were you supposed to go on, knowing you were the reason Michael was gone?

****.  
** **

You opened your eyes when you heard the faint, yet distinct sound of running water.  All around you was gold—the ground, the buildings in the distance, even the air shimmered.  You looked down at yourself to see that, yes, your clothes were now golden robes.

“So this is her?”

That was a voice you’d heard before.  And it was suddenly right behind you.  You turned quickly, coming face to face with Michael and Lucifer, still in the same vessel as before, but looking much better, healthier.  They were both in golden robes, similar to the ones you wore, but you could clearly see six wings behind each of them.

It was only now that it really hit you—fucking angels.

“Ah-ah, my dear,” Lucifer chided gently, “Archangels.  That’s why we get six.”

“Lucifer, I’d like you to meet ______.” Michael beamed—both figuratively and literally—and you almost had to close your eyes at how bright he was.  “______, my brother, Lucifer.”

“I think we’ve met once or twice.  Something about a colt, if I recall correctly.” You froze in panic, but Lucifer just smiled and shook his head.  “Not to worry, my dear.” He offered his hand to you and you hesitantly placed your own in his.  He surprised you by leaning down and kissing it.  “All water under the bridge now.”

“Ahem.” Michael cleared his throat and Lucifer released your hand and straightened.  

“I do believe I owe you a debt of gratitude for convincing Michael that we needed to let the past go.  I would never have been the bigger person, and I sincerely doubt my brother would have been either if it hadn’t been for your pushing.”

“So, everything’s alright now?” You looked to Michael, biting your lip in nervous anticipation.

“Such an adorable little human.  How did I spend so much time among them without realizing how lovely they really are?”

“Luce—this one is mine.” Michael’s arm came to rest protectively around your waist.

“Not a pet.” You hmphed, folding your arms across your chest.  This only served to earn you a cackle of delight from Lucifer.

“Of course you aren’t.”  Lucifer grinned.  “You’re the one with my brother wrapped around your fingers.”  You weren’t given any warning before the once fallen angel pulled you into his arms.  “As much as I have loathed your species’ existence since Dad first created you,  thank you.”  He hugged you tightly and lifted you off your feet for a brief moment before returning you to the ground and nudging you gently back to Michael’s side.  “And now, brother, if you’ll excuse me, I think one of us should go frighten—I mean surprise Gabriel.”  And he was gone.

“Oh, Michael—” You turned back to him to find him grinning at you.  “I’m so glad you’re okay.”  You threw your arms around his neck.  Once again, you were lifted from the ground as he held you to him.

“Were you worried about me, little one?” His voice was teasing, but you nodded against his neck, not ashamed of your concern.  “I am sorry for that.  I needed some time to heal before returning to you.”

“Heal?  Heal?” You leaned back, looking him in the eyes.  “What do you mean, heal?”

“Lucifer—he was angry at being cast out.  I—I was the one who ripped his wings from his back before—” he looked down, “He wanted me to know what it felt like—before he’d accept any sort of peace between us.  So, I let him.”

“You—you let him rip your wings off?  Why—Michael—I—” You looked over his shoulder at the beautiful wings that hung from his back.  To have something so big and so part of you—ripped—you were going to cry.

“For you.  Any amount of pain I go through that saves you from having to endure any is worth it.”  That did it—tears started falling from your eyes.  “Oh, little one, that was not meant to make you sad.” He eased you down to your feet and reached up to brush the tears from your face.  “I am healed now, there is no need for tears.”

“You’re wrong, Michael.” You turned your face and kissed his palm.  “I love you.  I choose to love you.  And as such, any pain you endure—I want to carry it for you.  I want to save you from it.  And I don’t want you going through pain because of me.” You paused.  “But thank you.  No one owes me any thanks.  I owe you so much.  I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you enough for what you did.” He shook his head.

“And that’s where you’re wrong.  I would never have gone to my brother as I did if you had not convinced me to.  Thanks to you, I have my brother back.  And I am truly loved and love the way I deserve.  So thank you.”

“Okay, this is not productive anymore.”  Screw propriety and all that fancy talk.  Heaven or not, you needed to get your point across.  “Dude—you don’t owe me jack shit.  Alright?  I owe you the thanks, and don’t argue with me, mister.  Got it?”

You weren’t expected to be answered by laughter.

“Got it.” He leaned down and cut off whatever you were about to say with a kiss.  

Your arms were around his neck again, his hands resting on your hips.  You reached back and felt his wing beneath your fingertips.  You pressed down on the soft feathers and he growled into your mouth.  It was at that moment you remembered your location.

“Not that I’m not completely into this, but uh—we’re in the middle of heaven, right?”

“Right.”

“So, I’m thinking this might not exactly be the place where we want to…you know…get to know each other…biblically.”

He just grinned.

****.  
** **

You woke up with an arm wrapped around your waist.  You grinned and decided getting up could wait.  Instead, you wiggled further into the embrace, gasping when the arm tightened around you.

“Did you know that angels do not sleep?” Michael’s breath was warm against your ear.  “And that this vessel is very, very male?” He shifted his hips and…yup, very male and very aroused.  “Feel free to do that again, though.”

Instead of obliging, you rolled over to face him, your nose just an inch or two away from his.  You tucked one hand under your head and lifted the other to brush along Michael’s face.  His hold on you shifted  and his hand came to rest on your hip.

“I’m glad you’re here.”  You slid your fingers through his hair.  He closed his eyes and sighed.  “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, little one.”  He closed the distance between your lips and his.  This time, he took control of the kiss, teasing his tongue across your lips.  You opened your mouth and a moan escaped into his as his fingers began to travel lower down your leg before finding them hem of the giant shirt you always wore to bed.

He shifted closer, pressing you back against the mattress as his hand slid up your leg.  You whimpered when his fingertips ghosted against the front of your panties, your hips lifting slightly, trying to chase the pressure.

Your hands slid down his back, as if searching for his wings without your mind’s consent.  They had been so soft to the touch back in heaven.  Seeming to understand what you were hoping to find, Michael allowed his wings to manifest without even breaking from you.  The moment you felt the brush of feathers against your skin, you began to card your fingers through the softness.  Once again, Michael seemed to growl deep in his chest as he thrust his hips against you.  When you gave the feathers a slight tug, he ripped his mouth from yours and pushed himself back a little, trying to limit your contact with his wings.

You smiled and let your hands fall to his shoulders.

“I want to bond with you,” he groaned.  He didn’t actually need to breathe, but he definitely looked as affected by the kiss as you felt—maybe even more so.

“Bond—oh,” you pressed yourself further into the pillow when his fingers pressed harder, rubbing against you.  “Michael—I—Michael, I can’t think when you’re touching me.” You wrapped your fingers around his wrist to still his movements.  He smiled down at you.  “Bonding?”

“Your soul to my grace.  We will be tethered together for all of eternity.  When you ascend to heaven, you will share my space with me.”  You watched his eyes suddenly fill with doubt.  “Unless that is not something you want.  ______, —”

“Michael,” you smiled and cupped his face with your hands.  “Nothing would bring me more joy than to be bonded with you.” Relief washed over his features. “But Michael, there’s so much you’d be missing out on.  I’m going to grow old, and you don’t age.  Don’t you want—”

“The only things I want are to be a better leader for my brothers and sisters, to create peace in heaven and on Earth, and to be bonded with you.”

“But—”

“As a wise woman once told me, don’t argue with me—got it?” You ducked your face and blushed.

“Got it.”

 


End file.
